The Birth of Venus
by nikkihime
Summary: -Eriol x Tomoyo- The reason why Eriol wanted to paint the Caress of Venus so much was something Tomoyo never knew, for the reason was buried deep under their memories, long forgotten by time and destiny. Prequel to Caress of Venus.


**THE BIRTH OF VENUS**

originally published in xkirakiraxLJ (021607)

Disclaimer: Card Captor Sakura (c) CLAMP.

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"Eriol, stop fidgeting on your seat."

He was extremely bored. He had been sitting on the same chair for hours, watching the ladies and gentlemen pass by him, either ignoring him or addressing him with superfluous words he did not understand. Young genius, the best young painter in the city, they all said. Eriol could care less what they said. He just wanted to go home and play with the new paint set his father bought him.

He did not understand why the adults called him young genius painter. All he did was play with paint and brushes he accidentally found in his father's workplace one day. He thought his father would be mad, but instead they let him have the whole workplace to himself. After that, he began painting whenever he liked it, and gave the finished pieces to his mother. It was some months before reporters and art enthusiasts began visiting their home.

Eriol basked in the attention the public gave him. He was celebrated as a deliverer of wonderful inspiration to other artists. He was glad his paintings were well loved. His father once said no one else can paint like him, and he became even prouder. he held the belief that his talent was incomparable. Maybe that was why he was called a _genius_ even though he was just randomly dabbling with colors.

As much as he loved his art and his parents, Eriol wished they wouldn't drag him to parties like these. All the talking, laughing and soft music are making him sleepy, and his mother won't let him retire to a corner and take a nap. He always had to look his best and, well, act like a genius.

Finally, his uneasiness got the better of him and he stood up, unable to keep still. Whispering urgently to his mother, he asked permission to wander around the house and look for a bathroom. His mother offered to call the maid and have him accompanied, but he politely declined. He wanted to walk around and try not to get sleepy. With his mother's reminder to be always courteous and genial, Eriol walked away from the boring ballroom and entered the manor's left wing.

The house hosting the party tonight was a large manor. Everything seemed so antique yet top of the line. There were art pieces everywhere. Eriol's father said most of them were rare. He looked around, admiring the pieces he had never seen before, yet was unimpressed. Most of the paintings he looked at were not that well-made. Eriol still thought he could paint better than them. Yet no matter how much he said the paintings were not that beautiful, he found himself gaping at each one, tiptoeing to get a better look at the paintings that adorned the walls.

He was trying his best to look at a painting by balancing his weight on the very tips of his well-polished shoes when someone came up behind him. With a gasp, Eriol lost his balance and landed on his bottom. Rubbing his sore back, he looked up and found a girl smiling down at him.

"Are you trying to see the painting?" the girl asked, her eyes filled with secret mirth that made Eriol embarrassed.

He stood up and gingerly patted dust off his clothes. "I'm not," he lied. He scuffled his foot on the carpeted floor. "I was just trying to see when it was painted."

The girl nodded, seemingly believing him. "That painting was made in 1920!" she announced, proud of herself. "That one," she pointed to the one across the first one, "was made in 1891. Pretty old, huh?"

Eriol met the girl's wide, shining eyes. She smiled at him and pointed to a few more paintings down the hall, announcing their date of creation and who painted them. Eriol was awed. "How did you memorize them?"

"I look at them everyday." the girl played with the ribbon holding her curly hair together. "If you want to look at them closer, you need the stool from there." She pointed to a stool at the far end of the corridor. The girl blinked at him, as if reading his thoughts of wanting to see the paintings. "It's alright. I do it all the time and Dad lets me."

"You live here?" Eriol asked. He was thinking whether he should believe the girl and get the stool.

The girl nodded. "Yeah. I live here with my mom and dad. My name is Tomoyo Daidouji. What's yours?"

"My name is..."

"Tomoyo-sama!" a maid in uniform hurried towards them. "Tomoyo-sama, your mother is calling you. Don't you have to go to the theater for your music lessons?"

Tomoyo's face fell. "But there's a party..."

"Oh, miss, please just go see your mother," the maid insisted and ushered the child off towards the other end of the corridor. "You know your mother hates it when you go down to the parties. You should just go to your practice promptly now."

Tomoyo looked back and waved at Eriol. "Don't forget to see my most favorite painting, ne!" Pouting, she turned around and quickly walked away.

Eriol caught himself waving back. When Tomoyo was gone, he decided to get the stool after all. With the girl gone, there won't be anything interesting to do now. He slowly walked through the hall, still looking up to the paintings, until he saw the stool within his reach.

With a small cry of recognition, Eriol held the sides of the stool, ready to pull it towards a painting. As he grasped its edges, he looked up and saw the painting above the stool. His eyes widened and soon, he absently stepped on the stool to get a good look at the sparkling painting.

It was only a small framed painting, but it was beautiful. Eriol gaped at the sparkling wonder before him. The painting was not like Eriol's paintings at all, which were mostly abstract. In fact, for the first time Eriol thought a painting was so much better than his. He moved closer to the wall, getting a good look at the painting.

A lady sat on a large cloud overlooking a brown city. The city seemed sullen, but the lady was vibrant. She was dressed in a gown that seemed to shimmer with the sunlight, and her eyes were deep violet. Her hair, curly and gray, fell in tresses up to her waist. Instead of a crown or a tiara, 2 butterflies adorned her hair. Her hand was outstretched towards the city, as if giving it her love. A rainbow flowed from her fingers to the city below, showering it slightly with color.

Eriol breathed deeply, overwhelmed by the detail and strokes in the painting. He was taken in so much he did not notice his father creep up next to him.

"What a wonderful piece of art," his father gushed, making Eriol nearly jump. "I never knew the famous Caress of Venus was just here, in this home."

Eriol looked to his right and saw his father staring at the painting. "Father, who made this?"

"The man of the house painted it, Eriol."

Eriol knew before that in order to be able to paint forms like people properly, the painter had to have a model. He wondered out loud who the model for the painting was.

His father thought for a moment. "As far as I know, the model for this painting was the owner's daughter. But she is not yet as old as the one in the painting. This painting is an interpretation of what he thought she would look like in the fiture."

"She is very beautiful," Eriol observed. He wanted to run his fingers over the canvas, but he knew it was not proper and might harm the painting. He still wondered what the glittering things in the paint were since he wanted to use them in his own painting. His father was still intently studying the painting. He was probably wondering what the sparkling flecks were, too.

Eriol suddenly remembered the girl he met a while ago. She said she lived here, right? Was she the one used as a model for the painting? She had purple eyes and long curly hair, to start with. Eriol thought that if she was the model, then he wanted to meet her again. He wanted to see her just one more time.

He looked down to the stool and eventually stepped down from it. He saw that the cushion on the stool was permanently dented with 2 little pressed parts. The girl probably look at paintings everyday using the stool. Eriol remembered her looking back and telling him to see her favorite painting. He wondered which it was. He wondered if it was this painting.

Will the girl ever come back? He could not even remember her name! If the maid did not come, they might have been able to talk more, but it seemed like she was hurriedly wanted to be out of the house. "If she was from here, why was she driven away?" he asked.

His father seemed to be barely listening. "Maybe...it was because no one wanted her?" His father touched the painting's frame. "She was driven away to this dark corner," he murmured.

Eriol wanted to see her and play with her, or talk to her about the painting. Maybe he can even teach her how to paint if she didn't know how. He looked up to his father and tugged his belt. "Father, if no one wants her, can I have her?"

His father gave him one look before turning back to the painting. "If you can paint more wonderful piece, Eriol, I will personally take her and give her to you."

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Eriol swore to be the best painter the world had ever seen.

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-end-


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